Chloe's Confession: Beca's Reality Check, or Beca Hasn't Slept
by SashaLikaMusica
Summary: Beca's cheeks are a deeper shade of crimson than the nose of Rudolph on her endearingly ugly reindeer socks, and Chloe can't help awwing to herself as she notes that despite the girl's obvious embarrassment, Beca isn't bothering to deny what they both already know to be true. Shameless fluff and fun written for shits and giggles because I couldn't escape the Bechloe feels.


**A/N: I don't even know, okay; this wasn't supposed to happen, but it did, and it shouldn't have taken me hours, but it did, because I wanted to get it just right. I almost never do any actual writing because I'm honestly just lazy as shit, and when I do my fics are usually attempts at multi-chaptered, slow-burning fake novels that never actually go someplace, so a oneshot (I could maybe be convinced to do more) with a hint of a plot and some actual action is a pretty big achievement.**

 **I wasn't kidding when I said those Bechloe feels hit my right in the gut. They just won't go away, and I can't escape them. My gosh. I would love to hear your thoughts.  
**

 **Rating subject to change if you manage to convince me to continue.**

 **Anyways, this was satisfyingly fun and exhausting, and I hope that you enjoy.**

* * *

It's just one of those days, really, and Chloe knows it the moment she sets foot in Beca's dorm room.

Beca's been awake since three AM yesterday; she came home from Bellas rehearsal frustrated with Aubrey for not changing the set list, angry with Jesse for flirting with her despite her repeated refusals, and ready to scream, but mostly reduced to a nervous wreck due to Chloe and all of the confusing emotions that have seemed to accompany the redhead's presence of late. She went straight to her laptop, jammed her headphones on her head, and buried herself in constructing complex, angry mixes that fairly wave a red flag saying that her nerves are beyond shot. She took a brief break at ten last night to yell at Kimmy Jin for having the audacity to tell her that she could hear Drake through her headphones, but other than that, she hasn't moved all night. Close to eleven she found a position that was somewhat comfortable at her desk, with her head bent over her laptop and one of her feet tucked under her.

That's how Chloe finds her at nine o'clock the next morning, almost ready to nod off but still barely holding it together as she attempts to put the final edits on another mix. She has to suppress a smile at the DJ's concentration – Beca has told her before that this has a way of happening, that she'll just melt into her computer and fuse with it until they're one solid being that has no need for sleep or sustenance, but she's never witnessed it firsthand, and she has to admit that it's more than a little endearing. Beca's hair is in a messy bun, probably to hide the fact that she hasn't showered recently, and her eyeliner is smudged at the corners from where she probably rubbed it by accident after crossing a line of exhaustion. The left leg of her sweatpants is rolled up to her knee, but the other one is pulled down over her foot and, Chloe notices, tucked into what is quite possibly the most adorable pair of reindeer socks ever in existence.

It's refreshing to see Beca in such a casual state, but what really gets to Chloe is the shirt that Beca's wearing – it's _her_ shirt; a cozy plaid one that Aubrey used to say made her look like a skater boy. She remembers lending it to Beca one day after rehearsal after Fat Amy accidentally-on-purpose spilled her double-shot espresso infused with something that smelled suspiciously of vodka on the brunette while they were running the stairs. (She stills suspects that it was all part of a plot engineered by Stacie and Cynthia Rose to get Beca to take her shirt off, something that the entire group has been rooting for ever since Lilly bared all during a surprise striptease for Donald, leaving Beca the only Bella yet to show some skin other than her shoulder blades.) Beca had initially refused, declaring that she was a tiny person and would not be deprived of her rights, but eventually Aubrey had settled the question by stating that under no uncertain terms would Beca be permitted to leave the auditorium to change her shirt, and that she had better just suck it up and change (Chloe still thinks that Aubrey was no better than the rest of them and just wanted to see the DJ's abs).

Abs or no abs, the sight of Beca in her shirt does something to Chloe, and she has to stop and quell the rushing sensation in her belly with a series of deep breaths before tiptoeing up behind the brunette and tapping her smartly on the shoulder.

To say that Beca reacts badly is an understatement. The tiny DJ shrieks and flails all of her limbs wildly at the contact, managing to knock both her cold coffee (last night's) and an expensive looking piece of DJing equipment to the floor with one swipe of her hand. She also ends up smacking her head on the standing lamp that's set up next to her desk, because when Chloe had approached Beca, she hadn't counted on the fact that the brunette might be exhausted enough to not be able to control her body. She watches in mingled amusement and horror as Beca rights herself and turns to face her, ripping her headphones from her neck.

"Jesus _Christ_ , Chloe, do _not_ sneak up on me like that! I could've knocked you to the floor!" She looks so indignant with her hair sticking out at odd angles that Chloe just has to giggle.

"Oh Beca, babe, don't flatter yourself; you couldn't knock me over if there were three of you," she snorts when she's regained a bit of control over herself, and immediately cringes at the sound (she really has to learn not to mix laughter and Beca feelings; they really don't go well together for her, and snorting, really? Can anyone say embarrassing?)

Beca seems to notice that something is amiss, and she squints at the redhead quizzically through the sleepy blur that's closing in on her eyes. For one thing, Chloe has about fifty nicknames for her, all of them somewhere along the lines of _Shortstack_ , _Boo_ , and _Snookums_ (she's not complaining; they beat Fat Amy's _Tinkerbelle_ and Lilly's comments about Munchkin Land that nobody but Beca ever seems to hear), but saying _babe_ is a little heavy and serious, even for Chloe, who normally makes even the most solemn of things seem casual and lighthearted. It's a little too close to the thoughts that Beca knows she could easily entertain if she allowed herself the liberty, and in all honesty, it makes her uncomfortable. That combined with the way Chloe is (subconsciously?) eyeing her up and down – it's not really new, but it's weird when they're in a room alone and don't have the safety net of Kimmy Jin's insults to break the ice – and Beca is feeling less like she needs a nap and more like she needs to return to the violent mixing mindset she was just so rudely jolted from.

"Chloe?" it's an undefined question, but they both have at least some inkling of what the underlying query really is. Chloe bits her lip, catching her slip too late. To be perfectly honest, though, she can't really blame herself – Beca is gorgeous and perfect and exasperating in all of exactly the right ways, and Chloe's never exactly been one to hide her affections or to bother filtering her thoughts before they leave her mouth. She responds accordingly.

"Yes, Boo?" Beca's face contorts with disdain at the nickname, but she visibly relaxes.

"I thought I told you not to call me that."

"Well, I don't like rules. They're for stiff, unoriginal people who have no sense of fun." She can see Beca fight the urge to roll her eyes, and momentarily stifles her grin before transforming it into her signature blissful expression. No need to get too heavy, here.

"Or they're for normal, law-abiding people who don't feel the need to overwhelm everybody else with enthusiasm," Beca snarks back, and it may sound like she's irritated, but Chloe has spent enough time around the grumpy brunette to know that she's only joking.

"I'm not overwhelming; I just like to express my joy and share it with the deprived people in the world who don't have enough of it," she states happily, maintaining her grin, and Beca doesn't resist the urge to roll her eyes a second time.

"Tell you what, Chlo; think of your joy as being like your lady jams – you keep it to yourself. You don't go around telling everybody what you get off to, do you?" Beca realizes her mistake as soon as the words leave her mouth, and it's her turn to cringe as Chloe's expression breaks into a wide grin.

"Oh, but I do, Becs. In fact, I think you know a little bit more about that than a lot of other people, huh?" Chloe doesn't quite know where she's going with this, but she knows that enjoys watching Beca's face grow progressively redder as she processes the meaning of the ginger's words.

"I – you – it wasn't . . . _You barged into my shower!"_ the smaller girl splutters finally. "You practically sat down and asked me to suck you off when you told me to sing that for you!"

"Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it, Becs; I saw your eyes land on my boobs at _least_ twice while we were singing it together."

"They were right there!" Beca exclaims, and Chloe is quite enjoying how visibly flustered the brunette is becoming at the mention of the memory. "What was I supposed to do, sing with my eyes shut? I'm pretty sure I would have had to go blind for that to work, because your boobs are kind of _perfect_ , in case you didn't notice!" Immediately, she clamps her mouth shut as her face turns fully scarlet, darting her eyes around to rest on anything, _anything_ but the girl standing in front of her right now. Chloe is positively smirking with glee; her nose is scrunched up from grinning, and even as Beca wishes that she could go crawl in a hole and escape the humiliation, she can't help the warm, fluttery feeling that runs through her at the expression.

"So you _were_ checking me out!" she exclaims in triumph before doing a celebratory fist pump. "I knew it!"

Beca's cheeks are a deeper shade of crimson than the nose of Rudolph on her endearingly ugly reindeer socks, and Chloe can't help awing to herself as she notes that despite the girl's obvious embarrassment, Beca isn't bothering to deny what they both already know to be true.

"I uh, I mean . . . I wasn't . . ." the brunette tries lamely, and the warmth in Chloe's chest increases tenfold, but she still can't help poking a little more fun at Beca. The situation really is too good to resist.

"Don't worry, Snookums. I'm sure I would have done the same thing."

"You _did_ do the same thing," Beca points out, and Chloe has to admit she's right.

"Yes, but that was _different_."

Beca raises an eyebrow incredulously, "Oh?" and Chloe doesn't know what drives her to do it, but something in her shifts and she suddenly finds herself spewing all of the carefully contained word vomit that she's been holding in for the past couple of months (Aubrey keeps telling her to get rid of it and handle her toner all ready, damn it, but then Chloe reminds her that when it comes to choking it down, Bree doesn't really have that skill in the bag yet, and she typically gets left alone).

Part of Chloe knows might live to regret this next moment, but she has a sneaking suspicion that Aubrey's prediction is right, and that she won't.

"Yeah, totes. See, you might not have realized at that point that you were attracted to me, so you didn't really take advantage of the view I was offering you. I already _knew_ that I found you super attractive, so there was nothing wrong to _me_ about checking you out. I bet if we went down the hall now and re-enacted it your appreciation would escalate to a totally different level." Beca's jaw is on the floor, and she seems to be frozen in shock at Chloe's words. It takes her a moment to shake off enough of the shock to reply, and when she does, it's not with the words she really means.

"Chloe, are you okay? Did you drink any of Amy's Infamous Jiggle Juice Concoction last night? Because right now you're not making any sense." Chloe blinks and shrugs, playing it off like her heart isn't skipping eighty million miles a minute and that she wasn't secretly hoping for a more exuberant response.

"Oh, no," she reassures offhandedly. "I'm not hung over anymore, either. Though we _did_ really miss you last night; everybody was asking where you were. Was something wrong last night?" Beca's eyes are wider than should be humanly possible, and there's definitely an unidentifiable emotion lurking somewhere in them, but she still manages to respond with some semblance of coherence.

"What? Oh, nah, I was just feeling frustrated with Aubrey because she still refuses to change the set list." She brushes it off like it's no big deal (she's lying, Chloe knows; Chloe always knows, and Beca _knows_ that Chloe knows, so she's not sure why she bothers), and then squares her shoulders. "Chlo, what's going on? What are you saying to me?" Chloe smiles innocently.

"What?"

 _"_ _Chloe . . ._ " Beca's tone holds a hint of warning. "So help me, if you don't tell me right now what it is you're thinking, I'm going to call Amy and tell her to get over here and unleash the Kraken. You remember what happened last time." Chloe does remember, and she knows that no matter what it may seem like, Beca doesn't dick around with Amy threats. She decides she doesn't want to risk finding out what Amy's like when she's hung over, and takes a deep, slow breath to steel herself.

 _Here it goes . . ._

"I really like you, Beca."

"Well no shit, Chloe; we're like, best friends. And that's including Jesse before he started getting on my case." A slight bit of frustration grows in Chloe. She has a feeling that Beca is playing off her comment as though it's nothing not because she thinks it's casual but because she doesn't want to deal with it. Normally, knowing what the brunette is like when it comes to talking about things like this, Chloe would let it go, but she just finally put it on the table after no fewer than five months of tension, and maybe she wasn't planning on this when she snuck up on Beca ten minutes ago, but god damn it if she's going to leave this room without getting a solid answer.

"That's not what I mean, Beca." The brunette is biting her lip nervously in a way that says all too plainly that she knows what's really going on, but she continues as if she's completely oblivious. A couple of months ago, Chloe would have bought it, but they've spent a lot of time together inside and outside of rehearsal hours, and she's purposefully been over-the-top obvious about her affections, and she knows, she _knows_ that Beca isn't _that_ dense, no matter what Aubrey has to say about it.

"Of course it's what you mean, Chlo. We're best friends; you like spending time with me. I enjoy spending time with you too, when you don't make me watch the entire Batman series in one night." She offers an innocent smile that makes her look more strained than credible, and it just makes it more evident that there's something the brunette _desperately_ wants to add to the conversation but is unwilling to man up and admit, and it actually makes Chloe mad.

"No it _isn't_ , Beca, if you'll just _listen_ to me for a damn minute. I said I really like you, but what that ultimately translates to is that I'm kind of in love with you and I have since pretty much the moment I first met you and I haven't said anything because I was worried that if I said it you'd take it badly, or not reciprocate, or at the very worst be really uncomfortable and not want to be around me anymore, and I _really_ don't want that because you're like, totally my best friend next to Aubrey, and I've only known you for five months so it's a little overwhelming, and I was worried that you'd hate me or not feel the same and stop being my friend because of it and God, Becs, I don't know if I could handle not having you in my life because you're, like, my favorite person, and you know all of the things about me that Aubrey manages to miss – although _how_ you know them I don't know, unless Amy went through the boxes under my bed and told you some of it – and you're just so sweet to me and you're fun to be around even though you can be a huge pain in the ass when you get grumpy, and you're so adorable when you're tired that it should really just be _illegal,_ and you're talented and you're funny and really good at cooking me lasagna, even better than Aubrey does it, and you're so insecure sometimes that it just makes me worry that maybe you feel the same way but are too scared to say anything, and that makes me sad, but you're gorgeous and you're fun and cute and your ear spikes don't really make you look that ferocious, and – " Chloe's rant is cut off by Beca surging forward and smashing their lips together, and it's like somebody's jammed a stick of dynamite in her mouth and lit the fuse. It's hot and explosive and a little bit like having her finger shocked in an outlet, except that it feels _good_ to go along with the spark and the lingering heat.

Kissing Beca feels _good_ , and though by no means did Chloe expect her first kiss with the brunette to be anything to the contrary, she didn't quite expect anything like _this_. (She has no qualms admitting that she's fantasied about it too many times to count; she's not like Bree, who lets something quietly bottle up until it explodes like champagne when the cork's taken out.) Beca's lips are soft but demanding, her fingers tight in the hair at the nape of Chloe's neck, and the quiet little humming sounds (somehow still managing to sound exasperated) that escape her with each new tilt of a head or introduction of teeth, or _God_ , when her tongue sneaks into Chloe's mouth and immediately engages her in a battle – they make Chloe feel _hot_ all over, like she got caught in dragon fire and the flames are licking up her insides and searing low in her belly while they spread out to simmer everywhere else, and if this is what being burned to death feels like, Chloe can't think of any better way to go.

Long story short, Beca's kiss is incredible, and when they separate after a long, heated minute of passionate energy exchange, she feels the sensation of loss clearly in her stomach, though the flames are most _definitely_ still there.

She's the first one to pull away, actually, and Beca presses their foreheads to together as they bask in the afterglow of passion. They're both more than a little breathless, and they simply rest there, allowing their breath to mingle in the space between them, Beca's hand wrapped around the back of Chloe's neck; Chloe's thumb rubbing circles into the shorter woman's hipbone. It takes a minute for either of them to slow their heart rates down enough to actually form a coherent thought. And even at that –

"Wow," Chloe breathes, cracking her eyes open to see Beca do the same. "I uh, I didn't see _that_ coming." Beca shrugs in what appears to be an attempt at casualness but turns out to be more halfhearted due to their position.

"Eh, well, you were rambling, Beale. I had to do _something_ to shut you up." Chloe's heart sinks for the briefest instant – but God, it's far and fast – before she hears the brunette chuckling. "God, Red, don't take life so seriously; you'll give yourself frown lines and ruin that pretty face." Chloe manages a chuckle in return, but she's monumentally relieved, and she knows that Beca can see it in her eyes and body language.

"First of all, wrinkles are still beautiful," she defends cheekily, with an attempt at seriousness that fails when Beca's responding grin causes warmth to spike through her. "Second," she adds more soberly. "Of course I took it seriously. I didn't know what you were going to say. But," she continues, her grin growing sly, "I'm going to take that response as a positive sign." Beca's face falls stoic.

"Oh, no, I don't actually care about you; I really just wanted you to shut up," she deadpans, and Chloe hesitates for the briefest second before smacking her lightly across the arm. "Ow! Asshole!"

"Don't scare me like that! You're the asshole, Becs; don't be so rude."

"But rudeness is my specialty," the DJ grins, and Chloe flashes her a small smile before her expression becomes solemn once more.

"Beca, can you just say it, please?" and Beca's face sobers to match the redheads, her navy eyes steady, and she pulls her in for a second, quicker kiss before pulling back and brushing the pad of her thumb across a freckled cheekbone.

"I love you too." Chloe squeals happily, and Beca jolts away at the proximity of the high-pitched noise before pulling a face.

"Jeez, Chlo, burst these precious eardrums, why don't you?"

"We wouldn't want that."

"No, we wouldn't."

"I guess you'll just have to give me your headphones, since you'll no longer be needing them," Chloe teases her lightly. Beca glares.

"Don't you even joke about that; nobody touches those headphones but me."

"And me," Chloe adds nonchalantly, knowing that it's true; she's the only one that Beca has ever allowed to handle her headphones, even going so far as to ban Jesse from standing within a three-foot radius of them. Somehow, Chloe is the exception to Beca's every rule, and Beca hasn't quite yet figured out why she doesn't mind. The redhead is something inexplicably special; Beca knows that much, and she figures that that answer is good enough, because even if given a life dedicated to the job, Beca's pretty sure that she will never be able to quite unravel the significance to her of the entity that is Chloe Beale.

Almost as though she's read the DJ's mind, Chloe's eyes soften, the traces of humor giving way to her newfound seriousness, and her big, gorgeous blue eyes are so hopeful and filled with hesitance that it's irresistible – a new look, Beca realizes; one that she doesn't mind. If anything, it only draws her further in.

"Could you – could you just say it once more?" Chloe pleads, and the nervous hopefulness in her voice is too hard for Beca to resist – not that she would have considered it, anyways. "Just one more time, so I know that I'm not dreaming?"

Beca's eyes glimmer with an emotion that makes the taller woman's breath catch in her chest, and she presses another soft, worshipful kiss to parted lips before breathing the words with all the sincerity she can muster, and feels her heart skip knowing that this is only the beginning; that she's opening the door to being able to say the words again and again as long as she keeps her heart as open as it is in this moment. As long as she can speak those words with the same joy, earnestness, truth, and sincerity of emotion that Chloe has always epitomized, then Beca feels that she holds every right to declare them in the quiet, miniscule space between their lips where nobody but they may bear witness, and have them be all the more powerful for that.

Yet despite how completely it overwhelms her how unbelievably _special_ this is, when midnight eyes lock onto lighter blue with an intensity that threatens to uproot the very rivets of her soul, it blows everything else out of the water. It is the thought of only one thing that consumes Beca when she speaks, and that is of the woman gazing back at her.

Her eyes soften, and she smiles as the words flow freely from her lips.

"I love you, Chloe Beale."


End file.
